


I Want To Fall Back Into You

by stayingputwouldbeablunder



Series: So Are We Brutal Hearts [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feels, M/M, Mentions of knotting, Not Canon Compliant, Oops, Sexual Content, basically porn with feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stayingputwouldbeablunder/pseuds/stayingputwouldbeablunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So they do this instead: steal hours away from reality, hide in their own world. Pretend the Alphas aren’t there to maim and kill. Pretend that Erica didn’t almost die. Pretend that Scott and the betas didn't run a scouting mission on their own and come home with wounds because of it. Pretend the Sheriff won’t question the bruises Stiles has scattered across his body like a map, twenty different shades, <em>marks</em> Derek left there for selfish reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want To Fall Back Into You

**Author's Note:**

> This is companion fic to [_Man or Animal_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/800547) ~~although it can be read as a standalone piece~~. [UPDATE: it still can be I guess, but to get the point across about how both Stiles and Derek see their relationship, I put them together.] _Man or Animal_ gave me and still gives me all the feels for reasons I don’t really get, but I thought about this for like two hours at work on Friday and scribbled ideas down on paper between doing things.
> 
> I suggest listening to this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPPiq-gM9Bk) on repeat while reading this. It will give you all the feels and it's what I listened to while writing ninety percent of this fic.
> 
> Unbeta'd, whoops.

It starts when Stiles talks back, gets in Derek’s face for trying to intimidate him, stands up to the alpha and is not afraid of the consequences. It continues through the mess with Peter, then the kanima. It only comes to a head when the Alphas, Deucalion and his pack of murderous wolves, kidnap the betas after they defect.

Derek didn’t know then, that it was the Alphas who had his two of his pack. By the time Isaac caught the scent, it was days too late and no one could find them. When Erica and Boyd came staggering in the warehouse a week later, no one was there. Stiles was the one who found them and drove them to the loft after he screamed at Derek over the phone, demanding the address.

He stayed the entire time, held Erica’s hand and fed her broth, pampered her as her body tried to heal itself. Scott showed up the day after they returned, saying Isaac called him. The beta, _alpha_ to his pack of humans, pulled discomfort from Boyd to ease the licks of fire that shot through his right leg with every movement; Aiden shattered his patella and the joint underneath it. Together, they integrated themselves into the healing period and aftermath, became pack without vocally expressing a want to. And while Derek expected that from Scott, he’s still surprised now that Stiles stuck around for two days without going home, napping on the couch while the betas slept on Derek’s bed.

Three weeks later, Stiles got himself thrown into a brick wall when he quipped something at Ennis. The alpha grabbed him by the throat and dislocated his shoulder with the force used to slam him into brick, raised the human high enough his feet couldn’t touch the ground. Derek chased Ennis off while the betas got Stiles to the Camaro. Somewhere in the Ironworks there were five howls and Boyd sped off.

Stiles was shaking as he ripped his flannel shirt apart with his teeth, wrapping it around his left arm. The Camaro drove over something that made the car lurch and the teen cursed, leaning his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. Derek said ‘ _fuck it_ ’, placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder, and kissed him while absorbing the pain. When he pulled away, Stiles looked delirious; he started to say something but the man popped his shoulder back into place. Derek drew the pain out through his palm and Stiles cried into his neck.

Sometimes he forgets that beneath the corded muscle and sex mussed hair, Stiles is still just seventeen, fragile, _human_. He can break, has and will in the future. His wounds gape open, don’t stitch themselves closed with magic, just bleed and bleed and bleed. Derek could spend hours tracing each and every scar Stiles has with his fingers and lips, listen to stories that are far too intimate for what they are. Because this isn’t a relationship, this isn’t what Scott and Allison have. This isn’t like Erica and Boyd. This isn’t like Lydia and Jackson.

Derek wonders what that would be like. Then he remembers his past. Kate. _Paige_. The people he loves always end up dead. 

So they do this instead: steal hours away from reality, hide in their own world. Pretend the Alphas aren’t there to kill and maim. Pretend that Erica didn’t almost die. Pretend that Scott and the betas didn't run a scouting mission on their own and come home with wounds because of it. Pretend the Sheriff won’t question the bruises Stiles has scattered across his body like a map, twenty different shades, _marks_ Derek left there for selfish reasons.

Sometimes Derek likes to let his wolf take over, to ravish Stiles until his creamy skin has blossomed purple and maroon, until his caramel eyes are brimming with tears, until he reeks so heavily of his alpha that _no one_ will be able to miss it. He knows Stiles likes it. When Derek touches him his pupils grow wide, hide irises that seem ethereal, while his tongue glides across his bottom lip like an invitation.

His wolf is never more content than when he’s buried balls deep in the kid, knot catching the rim of his hole, the way Stiles clenches down before he’s about to come. Derek could knot him for days and never tire of the feeling. Better yet, Stiles asks - no, _begs_ -, pleads until he’s full of Derek’s cock and all his clever articulation has been reduced to four lettered words and incoherent noises.

It drives Derek crazy in all the right ways.

But then he remembers, like he is now, that this won’t last. That they’re using each other to escape. His own record with relationships is shit and he’s damn sure Stiles’ is close to non-existent. Stiles deserves-, Stiles needs-. _Stiles_.

Sometimes he just forgets.

The wolf in him loves to turn the loud mouthed, sharp witted _son of the Sheriff_ into a wanton creature, eager and willing to roll over when asked, to spread his legs, to speak the lewdest things when Derek fucks him just the right way. He could blame the wolf for loving when Stiles pins his hands - to the ground, mattress, wherever they are when they’re coming down from adrenaline laden highs - and rides him until his thighs are trembling, but that would be a lie. He’s on par, however, with the way Stiles takes his knot. The only discomfort there is the feeling of filling a condom instead of the warm body kissing him, running long fingers up and down his arms, muttering praises from swollen lips.

They have rules. Derek doesn’t like them and Stiles doesn’t care. ‘ _I’m not going home with your jizz leaking out of my ass. I don’t care if my dad can’t smell it like your betas and Scott can, he barely trusts me alone these days, and washing my jeans every few days is not something I want to do_ ,’ he had said the second time they fell into bed together. Derek paused from sucking a bruise into the teen's inner thigh, crooked his fingers from where they were knuckle deep in Stiles’ ass, and made him come. 

It’s barely dawn now but Derek has been awake for an hour, laying with his back to the wall of windows, only half awake, content to listen to the way Stiles breathes. The teenager is still asleep, facing away from the alpha although he has an arm thrown across his chest and has tucked his foot around the other’s ankle. He’s wearing a shirt of Derek’s, one he stole after they showered the night before; it’s bunched around his armpits.

It’s rare that Stiles spends the night. His father is under the premise he’s at Scott’s right now. Melissa is apparently on the night shift and Scott is with Isaac, Allison, and Lydia.

Derek smiles into the comforter. Stiles always complains he gets too hot when they sleep together, that Derek is like a space heater that is perpetually stuck on the highest setting. Yet he still lets the man spoon him or vice versa, limbs tangled together when they wake up, someone's chest pressed to the other's back.

The sky starts turning a rosy pink when Derek notices the scars. There’s four, discolored and barely raised, wounds that Kali gave Stiles when he surrounded her in a ring of mountain ash and Allison shot her through the abdomen with an arrow. When she didn’t get up from where she was bleeding on the ground, Stiles chortled, snarky grin on his lips as he pocketed a handful of wolfsbane. Before he could blow it in her face, the alpha ripped the arrow from her stomach, broke the barrier, and slashed the teenager up and across the chest.

Stiles wound up in the ER, reticent and dazed. Scott said the Sheriff ripped him a new one, demanding to know where the fuck he kept getting injured. Morphine and warm blankets made Stiles chatty and he told his father as Melissa stitched the jagged wounds back together. The man didn’t believe him until Scott's veins went black from where he leached pain from his best friend and his eyes glowed amber.

Derek should have been there to stop it. Stiles is _pack_ now, it’s his responsibility as the alpha to keep his own safe. Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Scott, and Jackson, they can protect themselves. But the humans, Stiles, Lydia, and Allison. They are all strong, fierce and undeterred by being simply _human_ , but they get injured far too easily. 

Stiles mumbles something in his sleep and Derek takes his chance to remove his arm from where it’s pinned beneath the teen’s head. The nerves tingle and his skin goosebumps from pinpricks and the rush of blood. When he can flex his fingers without the muscles in his arm spasming, Derek scoots down the bed to lean over the Stiles' chest. Without hesitance, he presses his lips to the longest of the pink mars, ghosting over it as the kid twitches in his sleep.

He kisses them until Stiles stirs beneath him, yawning and try to squirm to one side. Derek holds him down by his waist, trailing kisses up his chest to his collarbones. He nips at a bruise he left the night before, continuing a path across the teen’s neck, settling at his jugular. Stiles whines something about it being too early and Derek shuts him up by pressing their lips together.

It’s not the most delicious of kisses; they both taste like stale morning breath. Stiles doesn’t seem to care though: he loops his arms around the alpha’s neck until Derek settles his weight on top of him. It’s almost leisurely, the way they breathe into one another’s mouths, tongues chasing each other back and forth. Derek opens his eyes when Stiles moans softly, finding he has his own squeezed shut.

He fumbles with the drawer of his night stand to find the lube as Stiles frees himself from the shirt and his boxers. When Derek settles back between his legs, the kid is yawning and scratching at his stomach. He finally opens his eyes, eyelids fluttering as the first finger presses against his hole. He just grins then, stretches his arms until his palms are flat against the wall, and leans up to kiss Derek.

It’s slow, languid like so many times of doing this aren’t. Stiles bites Derek’s upper lip between his teeth with the man presses against his prostate, mumbling a curse. Derek kisses him before sitting back on his heels. He slips out of his own underwear before slicking his cock and lining up between the teen’s legs. Stiles tells him to do it already, voice raspy as his hands wrap around Derek's forearms.

Watching the way the kid bites his lip, the way his face contorts into a pleasured version of pain, how his pulse hikes and the air grows that much thicker with lust; Derek thinks that’s close to the most perfect thing about Stiles. He loses himself in this whether they’re between the sheets in the loft or crammed in the backseat of the Camaro. ‘ _You were made for this_ ’ he had said once, when Stiles was blissed out and lying on his tiny twin bed as Derek cleaned them up. The Sheriff's son had just beamed at him with hazy eyes, kissed him before he slapped his ass and told him to leave.

Derek places a hand over Stiles’ scars and feels the way he tenses beneath him. Stiles covers the alpha's hand with his own, as though hiding them will negate their existence. Derek rocks his hips forward, delighting in the way the teen’s breath catches, whispers ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’, and absorbs pain from his chest. Stiles goes limp beneath him, a shiver racking through his body before he nudges the alpha with his shoulder away from where he’s hiding his face in the kid's neck. 

Unlike the previous night, four days before that, or even a week earlier, they take their time. There’s no need to rush, not for a few more hours. There's just slow rolls of hips, deep kisses, fingernails biting into skin. Stiles cants upwards to meet Derek with every thrust, keening when the angle is just right.

He mumbles something before pushing at the man's chest, cheeks flushed with color. Derek pulls back, wondering if something is wrong but the teen just smiles at him and says ‘ _I want on top_ ’. The alpha complies, thumbs pressed against slightly jutted hipbones as Stiles straddles his thighs, sinking down on his cock with a strained sigh. His eyes are closed again, bottom lip caught between his teeth, nails scraping against Derek’s chest as he lifts his hips only to rock back down.

Derek sits up, one hand still around the teen’s hip, moving the other to pull Stiles’ hair back with the lightest tension. If one thing has come from Stiles growing his hair out, it’s that it provides the perfect leverage to get him to tilt his head back and expose his neck. He mutters ‘ _fuck_ ’ as Derek sucks a week old bruise back into place, driving his hips down in quick snaps.

This is why he wants Stiles as much as he does. The seventeen year old can take control without making Derek feel like he’s being forced. It’s nothing like with Kate; she pushed and pulled him where she wanted, took and took because Derek was willing to give. It’s not like with Paige, who kissed him wholeheartedly and never let him touch her more than that. 

When Stiles takes, he gives it back two-fold. He doesn’t complain about the alpha’s need to mark him up. He doesn’t care if Derek insists they don’t label whatever it is they are doing. He _wants_ Derek, broken as he is. 

That is why Derek needs him.

Stiles gets a hand in Derek’s hair, whining as the man lifts his hips enough to meet every downward thrust, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Derek licks a stripe across the taut ligaments in Stiles’ neck, delighting in the way his pulse is pounding. He gets a hand around the teen’s cock, wet with pre-come, and rubs a finger across the slit at the head. Stiles moans, rocking forward into his grip. It takes no more than a few rough strokes until he comes, forehead pressed against Derek’s.

He curses when Derek maneuvers him onto his back again, shoving a pillow underneath his ass before spreading his legs. The alpha fucks him hard this time, knowing Stiles is oversensitive, still reeling from his own orgasm as Derek chases his own.

When he comes, it’s with a groan. Derek buries himself as deep as he can go, forehead pressed against Stiles’ shoulder. It’s only when he pulls out and stream of hot come trails after the head of his dick does he remember he forgot the condom. Stiles furrows his eyebrows at the sensation but doesn’t say anything. Derek retreats to the bathroom, cleaning himself off before returning with a warm washcloth. When he runs the coarse fabric down the seam of the teen’s ass, he apologizes, saying ‘ _I’m sorry I forgot_ ’. Stiles just shakes his head and replies ‘ _It’s alright_ ’, shuddering when Derek presses the pad of his thumb against the angry red puckered skin.

Derek tosses the washcloth on the floor before laying back down. Stiles mumbles something about still having another hour before he needs to leave, scooting away from the wet spot in his side of the bed and into Derek’s arms. He throws an arm across his chest and buries his face in the alpha’s neck, kissing the skin before drifting off.

His phone goes off an hour and a half later, ringer low because he knows it bothers Derek. They get dressed in silence, casting shy looks at each other. Derek follows Stiles to the door, watching him slide it open. He turns around before stepping out, opens his mouth to say something and closes it. Derek watches caramel eyes flick between his own hazel and his lips.

Stiles kisses him softly, using the height advantage from the stairs to make Derek lean up into it. Derek rests his hands around the teen’s waist as Stiles places his on the man’s neck. They kiss for what seems like hours even though it’s really just minutes. When Stiles pulls away he whispers goodbye against Derek’s mouth, slowly dropping his hands before walking out of the loft.

Derek watches him go, grateful Stiles can’t hear his heartbeat, how its racing from just a kiss. He slides the door shut before laying back down in bed, face buried in the pillow Stiles slept on. It smells like him, like sweat and Derek's body wash and Stiles' underlying scent of fabric softener. Derek rolls onto his back and covers his eyes with both of his arms.

Because _fuck_ if he isn’t in too deep.

**Author's Note:**

> FEELS. Fucking feels, man.
> 
> The title comes from the song linked above, _Disappear_ by Mikky Ekko. If you still aren’t listening to the S3 soundtrack, I suggest remedying that immediately. It’s fantastic in ways I can’t describe.
> 
> Back to my wip. Hopefully I’ll be done with the next chapter in the next two or three weeks. Just in time for the hiatus and overwhelming feels sure to be brought by the mid season finale.
> 
> As always, I'm on [tumblr](http://stayingputwouldbeablunder.tumblr.com) if you need me.
> 
> UPDATE: now part of a series.


End file.
